Beadle's Dime Library, No. 13 — page 32: what you’re looking at

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_—- - — 32 “T know it,” returned Nicholas. ‘“ He’s been stannin’ ahind ye some time, but don’t be skeerd ; he’s slier and more cat-like nor you be. The critter’s fallered me miles on the trail thout disturbin’ a leaf, and notuin’ suite him better. He isn’t interested in common doin’s, he isn’t, but is in his element when there’s danger. Obsarve,” added Nick, in the same low whisper in which the conversation had been carried on, “how fierce his eyes glow! He's brave, I allow! Ata motion of my finger he’d fly “nto the midst of ’em, and like it amazin’. But I s’pose we might as well creep back, for our arrant seems to be done. Turn tail, Calamity, and heave ahead |” - CHAPTER XXVIII. THE REFUGE. Nick stepped silently into the canoe. The Shoshoné glanced at the trapper’s uncom- municative face and patiently waited for hina to speak. ! «Hight of ’em,” said Nick, turning his eyes anxiously to the east. “Eight, and Jack Wiley is with ‘em. Daylight is comin’ and their fire burns well down to the bank, but we'll try it, Ingin. It’s runnin’ the g’antlet, as ’twere, but that I’ve done afore. Step aboard, colonel. "Iwas ’mong the Crows that { run the g’antlet, Shoshoné. I’s fresh in the trappin’-grounds, then. I could took care o’ myself well ’nough if I’d been alone « ad hadn’t had a young feller with me, who was new from the big clearin’s and not up to the ways o’ the kentry. His hoss was shot under him and he was wounded in the leg. Recol- lect mighty well how he yan: as he sot on the ground, the picter o’ despair.” “ eThis is thé last o’ as. Nick,’ sez he. ‘T’ve got to die,’ sez he. ««]'m afeard so!’ sez I. “Tye got brethers and sisters that'll ery for me,’ sez he, ‘and a mother, too,’ sez he. “You can’t tell how the word ‘ mother’ started me ; it tetched somethin’ tender in my natur’. I’s mounted on a hoss as swift as the wind; Suggestion his name was; an odd name, but a good critter. If you should ever meet Buck Bison, Ingin, he’ll tell ye the p’inte o’ that animile. “+ Jim,’ sez I, ‘I’ve got no mother to ery for me!’ And with that I met from Sug- gestion’s back quicker’n a wink. The Crows was then pesky nigh, mounted most of ’em, and yellin’ like a hundred catamounts. «There shan’t be no weepin’ for you, Jim,’ sez I, ‘if I can help it,’ takin’ him from the ground and puttin’ him into the saddle in halt a second. “*Good God, Nick! What are you doin’? sez he. | “¢Take the reins,’ sez I, ‘and if there’s hoss-flesh that can save you, it’s under ye.’ “ You never seed sich a ’stonished ook, I allow, as he give me! He looked as if he’s willin’ to die hisself, then. He was goin’ to say somethin’ that was chokin’ him, when I give Suggestion a cut, and off he darted. as ‘God bless you, Niek!’ was the words that came back to me as the hoss whirled him away.” nd you, Nick, and you?” interrogated Sebastian. Nicholas smoothed his beard, made a mo- tion to the Shoshoné, and qrietly answered : “TI sot dewn on the ground where Jim had been 8 moment afore, with my arms aside me. In the fury of pursuit, two thirds o’ the var- mints galloped by me; but presently I was diskivered and surrounded with red faces, tufted heads, guns, and tamahawks. I fought ‘em, and there was a few hosses that scamp- ered off ’thout a redskin to ride’em. There was yellin’s and hootin’s, I swear to gracious! I’s taken, in course, as I told ye, and there was great i‘ ia When we reached the ‘row camp, I’s obleeged to run atween two rows 0’ warriors, armed with all sorts o’ wee- pons, to be used for my benefit. Soon’s they’d placed me and told me to run, I leaped u like a wounded bufferler, ‘lighted on the hea and shoulders of a copperskin, wrenched away his weepon, and cleared a path through the varmints like lightnin’. In less’n half a min- ute I’s in the timber, with the whole Nor’west afore me. My friends was surprised to see me come into camp, havin’ give me up for lost.” “ And the young man?” said Sebastian, in- quir) aBly “ Was safe and sound, savin’ the little gun- shot diffikitty in his leg. Gunshot diffikilties a’n’t allers mortal, little ’un; I've had ’em, and ¢ know what they ba Keep nearer the The New York Library. right bank, Shoshoné ; the sloser we git to it the better it’ll be, for the sarpents ’1l be more likely to look over us.” Nicholas raised his long slim neck, and cast a calculating eye toward the pte of pinon. “Twas a noble act!” said Delaunay, with enthusiasm. “Shoshoné, you can see them little puffs misting up through the trees; other eyes might mistake ’em for wreaths of fog, but you and I, chief, know better. And the colonel, too, has an eye and a mighty knack, I allow. Frenchman, raise your paddle and let the birch drift ; the Ingin will guide it; it’s his natur’ to manage @ canoe.” There were signs of the coming day in the easi—a faint tinge low down on the horizon ; a soft glow between the earth and sky. “ Now bend low, all of ye, and screen your heads as much as possible!” suggested the ever-careful Nick. “ Let your head sink a little lower,” whis ered Pathaway to Sebastian Delaunay. “ It offers a mark to an enemy.” “Why should I fear an enemy more than ou ?” he answered. “Iam sure you offer a tter target to a marksman than I.” “T care not; I am wont to danger; but you, you—” Pathaway paused. Sebastian looked up with a start. “ Caution is better nor courage,” said Nica Whiffles. ‘Tis here, leastwise.” The canoe floated steadily toward the point of danger. The stream fell off as they pro- ceeded, and the current grew quicker. Here and there white water and a broken surface told where rocks were hidden, but the Sho- shoné, with a metion cf his paddle, sent the vessel this way or that, shunning the danger- ous spots with the skill and ease of long prac- tice. As they neared the pines, each mind was naturally expectant. Even the face of Nick became more intense in expression, and the manner of the Shoshoné more wary and absorb- ed in his employment. Gently the light craft drifted on. They were passing the fire, when it was drawn into an eddy od whirled around several times. Pathaway believed discovery inevitable. _Glancing shoreward, he saw dusk forms, some sitting, and some standing ; Jac Wiley was prominent in the group. It was manifest, from the sudden contraction of Nick’s brows, that he, too, saw the same spec- tacle. The canoe rocked, swayed to and fro, trembled an instant, then shot from the circling waters into the current, governed by the po- tent hand of the Shoshoné Some time elapsed before a word was spok- en, during which the arm of Portneuf aided in propelling the vessel. The roaring of a fall was heard, and the chief turned the canoe to the shore, which in that place was sterile and rocky. “Git out—hide canoe—go no further by water,” he said. The parties stepped out upon the rocks. In obedience to the direction of the chief, Nick and Portneuf lifted the canoe upon their shoulders, and carrying it several rods, stop- ped at the fall. The stream, which was nar- row, was still narrower there. The water fell over the ledge some six feet in a clear, un broken sheet. Under this fall the canoe was thrust, and the water, shooting over it, effec- tually concealed it from view. “Nobody but an Ingin,” said Nick, “ or some one that knowed Ingin ways, would thought of sich a hidin’-place. ut there you see ’tis, with a ledge shelvin’ over it, and the watery elements coverin’ it like a blanket. Which way now, chief, fer we trust this mat- ter wholly to you?” “This way,” answered Multnomah. “ One at a time, and step as I do,” “One at atime means Ingin file; and b steppin’ as he does, means to tread in his tracks ; and not in his tracks neither, ’cause he won’t make none; but to put your feet where he puts his’n. Don’t step too long, Shoshoné, for Sparrer-Legs hasn’t a ‘ong span of the leg as ’twere.” A ry ray of sunligns darted across the ranges, falling like a trail of gold toward the west. “See!” said Multnomah, “the Master of Life sends us a guide. "Tis a good sign, Dou- bledark, and we’ll follow it.” “Sartin! sartin!” said Nick. Then to Pathaway, apologetically : “’Tis the natur’ of a heathen to b’lieve in signs, omens, and mani- tos, and J a’n’t sure but they’re right. Why shouldn’t they be? Don’t they live the near est to natur’? Isn’t natur’ pooty much as the Great Spirit made it ?” “I’m not much of a causist!’’ responded Pathaway. “] don’t know what that may happen to be, colonel, nor I don’t keer much; but it stan’s ye in hand to know more nor I do on ’oount o’ your book-larnin’.” ‘My sweetheart was a prairie-flower, She dwelt beside the flowing water ; I wooed her in her wildwood bower, I loved the wand’ring trapper’s daughter. Oh, the trapper’s daughter !” It was the voice of Andrew Jeanjean, sing- ing. Nicholas sprang to stop him, but the strain was so soft and musical, and vibrated so plaintively through the trees, that he could not find it in his heart to check him till the touching burden of his song had ceased. “I’ve got a new idee,” said the trapper, gently ; ‘and not a new idee, neither, for I’ve earried it about in my thinkin’ orgins sey’ril days. I’m goin’ to operate on that critter’s head, by mighty.” The trapper levelled his long forefinger at Andrew. “‘ Pistols, traps, peltries, buffaloes, and other things!” said Jeanjean, with his unmeaning face turned to Nick. “ Jes’ so! jes’ so!” responded Nick, nod- ding. “ Specially other things! Dr. Whif- fles used to operate a sight on broken heads. He used to japan ’em; that is, take out a piece o’ bone and clap in 8 piece o’ silver in- stead on’t.” “That process is called trepanning, unole Nick,” said Sebastian. “] said trapannin’; and right well the doe- tor knew how to do it. NowI don’t ’tend to go the whole figger and put in a piece o’ sil- ver, but just insart the p’int o’ my knife and lift up the bone where it presses on the brain. I've got a steady hand, and I’m sure I can bring back his reason, or leave him no worse off nor I found him. I won’t kill him, least- wise. I’ve sounded the diffikilty with my fin- ers, and diskivered the skull pushed right dew into the soft parts. I to know the tetchnical names of the orgins. I ha’n’t for- | got the titles of the two milkbranes that the thinkin’ fakilties is done up in, like blankets : one’s called the p’tson-matter and ’tother the do-ye-matter.” “The pia mater and dura mater, I think,” said Pathaway. “Sartin. so I said and so ’tis. I was well varsed in these things when I’s with the ald doctor that practice Lobely. I know what he’d do, if he’s here—not Dr. Whiffles, but the botany doctor—he’d give him a ’metic; but I don’t ’magine ’twould start the skull an artem. No, no! it wouldn’t do it, though it has a great raisin’ power so far as the stumich is con- sarned. Tread carefully, sonny, and step in the same place. Ingin, don’t take sich lo strides ; the boy has a diffikilty in reachin’. He isn’t set up so fur from the ground as you be, you know. Lower posted, so to speak.” For an hour or more, the Shoshoné pursued a straight course over a hard, unyielding soil, then, reaching the deep gulch, turned sudden- ly to the south. Nick and Pathaway looked at him inquiringly, but asked no questions. The guleh fed them to a valley running to the east, which they followed till the sun was high in the heavens. Sebastian and Indian Joe showed unmistakable signs of weariness, the former being supported the latter part of the way by N ick, and assisted by Pathaway when- ever the trapper afforded him an opportunity, which was seldom. Joe began to lag, and Nicholas fearing that he meditated leaving them, making fatigue a pretext to favor the design, made the dog Calamity, alias Misfor- tune, walk at his heels and keep guard over his movements. The boy, clearly, entertained a great terror of the dog, and his muttered growls and dis- trusttul looks always had the effect to quicken his pace. Pathaway remarked that he really seemed exhausted, and advised halting a few moments to give him needed rest. “ An Ingin boy git tired!” exclaimed Nick, incredulously. “ That's onreasonable, colonel. Redskin boys are calkilated mostly for run- nin’. He’s makin’ it, depend on’t.” Then to Joe, with threatening brow: “Come along, Little P'ison! Don’t play *possum with an old hunter. Look at Misfor- tin ; he’s a smilin’ at ye from ahind ; he’ll have hold o’ vour heels next.”’ | Eomicbooks.co —— eee